


Language Barriers (Will Not Keep Us From Each Other)

by Piehead



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky is Russian, Gen, Language Barrier, M/M, Steve is French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piehead/pseuds/Piehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky got lost in Paris, France, when he was separated from his guide and translator. A Frenchman decides to help him out. They don't understand a word each other is saying, but that's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language Barriers (Will Not Keep Us From Each Other)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after I found out that Steve spoke French after I saw Cap 2 and then remembered that Bucky probs knew fluent Russian and this was born (Written and posted from my cellphone)

Bucky looked up from the little slip of paper in his hand, glancing around to look at the tops of the streets. He had absolutely no idea where he was. He had lost his guide and translator during some huge event a few streets over. He had next to no idea where he was, all the signs were written in French and his directions were written in Russian without the French translations. He cursed loudly in Russian in frustration. What the Hell was he gonna do?

"Excusez-moi, êtes-vous perdu?"

Bucky looked up from the little slip of paper and saw a man standing in front of him. He was a somewhat tall man, with hair styled in a somewhat old fashion and a shirt that seemed too small for him to be wearing. The most interesting thing about the man was his eyes, which were a bright blue and curious, having probably spotted Bucky from across the street.

Bucky had no idea what the man was saying, and he didn't know how to communicate it other than with his facial expressions. He'd heard the first part of the phrase before; that was 'Excuse me' but the rest was just a mouthful he had never heard before. The other man seemed to understand what he meant through his eyes, suddenly looking worried himself.

"Parli Italiano?" He asked this time, and Bucky shook his head; he still didn't understand him.

The man looked around and then gestured toward Bucky's hand, before bringing his own hands together and holding them. It took a few times but eventually Bucky realized that what the man was asking was to grab his hand. When he figured it out, he offered his hand for the man to take.

The blonde grabbed his hand and then pulled him along, taking him through a crowd of people that was mingling ahead and heading somewhere; Bucky had no idea where. He resigned himself to simply follow and admire the strong grip the man had. When not thinking too much, Bucky noticed that the man was extremely handsome, practically gorgeous, but he figured that was to be expected from the French. Though what really grabbed his attention now was how the beauty had said the word 'Italy' in what Bucky recognized as Italian. He knew French and Italian but no other languages? Bucky was only familiar with Russian (his native language) and German (the one he learned as a second language to visit family in Germany).

The blonde pulled Bucky into a tiny cafe, where he began saying something in rapid French to the red-headed barista, who looked confused for only a moment until another man, the second barista Bucky guessed, walked out of the back and nodded to the man before them. The second man, shorter with slightly more brownish blonde hair, grabbed a pen and paper from behind the counter and then wrote out a message to give to the red-head. Once she saw it she looked at Bucky, head tilted.

"Вы русский?" She said and Bucky nearly shouted in glee. Another Russian!

They exchanged conversation quickly, Bucky telling her that he was lost in the city and couldn't find his guide nor the streets he was looking for to get back to his hotel. She nodded immediately and then turned to the other man behind the counter, writing out the message she was trying to relay. The male barista behind the counter turned to the blonde and started speaking in French, the blonde nodding after hearing the message. He looked at Bucky, pointing to the paper in his hand with the directions on it, and Bucky gave it to him. He then passed it to the two baristas.

The male barista read it and then told the blonde where Bucky was trying to go. The blonde understood and then thanked them, pulling Bucky out of the cafe with another shouted phrase over his shoulder. Bucky hadn't even noticed that the blonde was still holding his hand until he was being pulled along once more, headed (hopefully) to his hotel.

They walked for a while, Bucky beginning to notice street signs and shops he had seen when leaving his hotel room that day. When they arrived at his hotel a few minutes later, Bucky couldn't have been more ecstatic. He would finally be able to call his guide (if he wasn't already back at their room). Bucky turned to the blonde man who looked triumphant himself and smiled in thanks. He reached through the back of his mind for a French word he had picked up and once he found it he asked.

"Nom?" He questioned, and the Frenchman looked startled to hear him speak French, but figured that the way he said it meant it was only a word he'd picked up from conversation.

"Steve," the blonde replied, however, his smile returning. Bucky nodded, replying with his own name.

"Bucky." The blonde tilted his head at his name but nodded nonetheless.

"Bucky," he repeated. Bucky nodded, the smile on his face growing. The blonde, Steve, was prepared to pull away when he paused and pulled out a pen and paper. He wrote down a quick message along with a phone number before handing it to Bucky. Bucky looked down at it and then back up at Steve, only to see that Steve was waving and heading back through the crowd.

Later, when he was safe in his hotel room with his guide (who had been worried sick about him), Bucky asked what the message meant.

"В нем говорится, чтобы звонить, если вы хотите встретиться снова," his guide explained to him. Bucky looked at the number scrawled on the paper, and a smile stretched across his face when it dawned on him that he would be allowed to see Steve again.

(Later Bucky would remember that they both speak two completely different languages, but for now he was content with knowing that Steve actually _wanted_ to see him again.)

**Author's Note:**

> I looked some stuff up and found out that not everyone who lives in Paris lives that French "dream" and stereotype. Steve is from southern France, closer to Italy, so he speaks pretty okay Italian. Bucky, on the other hand, only speaks broken German with his Russian, but this is because he's got family in Germany he visits every couple of years or so. He's only in France as a tourist.


End file.
